Reminiscences of an evening past- December 30, 2009 (Act II)

6:45PM to 7:15PM

Two men leave a café. Two other men board a car. Two men walk to their destination. Two other men are driven there. The walk is accompanied by mellow conversation and thoughtful repose; the drive is besot by mirth and violence. The only common thought the four men share is about the appointed place and time.

The man and his friend begin walking, lost in conversation and private thoughts; they meandered, leisurely, up the pleasant boulevard and towards the controlled chaos of traffic that so frequently ail major roadways. They speak about their dreams, hopes for the future and the mechanics of success, challenging each other and playing that game of “Devil’s advocate”. There was a heavy air around both of them, what lent it that weight none can say; they solider on.

The co-conspirator, a portly man and his lanky, silent, companion drive to their destination, the radio blares loudly drowning in it’s raucous output any hope for sensible conversation. They laugh, with measured sincerity, at the prospects of the evening ahead. The car swerves onto a strangely abandoned main road, the radio blares on. A thought strikes the co-conspirator, he extracts his phone from his bag and calls the victim and his lanky companion silences the radio.  They drive on, the silence interrupted only by the urgent voice of the portly man narrating a hurried story.

[“Yes… the wind shield has been bashed in…”
“We are fine.. No he sustained a few nicks and cuts, nothing too serious… yes odd enough that it happened on that road”

“Good, you guys should carry on I will call later to let you know… oh my…sure...”

“Is this being asked with him around? No? Ah! Excellent- we will be there in another two minutes.. Preparations have been made, bye.]

The man disconnects the phone and hands it back to his friend. The central business district came into view over the next rise and the two men continue on their path toward it, deftly avoiding the deep hollows that threatened to swallow them up if they slipped in. They cross the road and pass the old church, the silence between them their only companion. A gaily-lit building loomed large before them; the first man leads his friend in and proffers a story of an errand that he needs to complete there, his friend lost in his own thoughts follows him in absently.

The lift is slow and is playing a song; “Love, sorrow, pain, sweet melancholy, mirth, joy, new year, faggot, scientist, God, god, race, sex, deviant, defiant, insurrection” the game of word association being played in the man’s head ends as the lift stops at their floor and the men exit purposefully.

They walk through a narrow passage and climb the large staircase at the end of it to enter a low lighted terrace, the man smiles and greets his portly co-conspirator, the victim merely offers a wry smile and utters the cautious words “neatly done”.